


Cardiac Attempt

by honorablementioned



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Weight Issues, chubby!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorablementioned/pseuds/honorablementioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not fat, he swears. He can get out of bed and can stand up straight, leering down to see his feet just fine. He can hide the slight double chin he's acquired if he's careful about the way he moves his head and it isn't there all the time, anyway, just when he looks down at himself or at other people.</p>
<p>He tries really hard not to notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardiac Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> Issues addressed in this work, for those who may be triggered:  
> Weight issues, overeating, use of the word 'fat'.  
> PTSD, nothing violent. 
> 
> Please enjoy. 8)

He isn't fat. Not really.

He's husky and just really loves cinnamon rolls.

Bucky blames his mom's cooking for his life long love/hate relationship with his body. She always made too big meals and he was taught that refusing seconds when offered was rude.

Maybe he eats a little too much when he goes out, always ordering an extra side; maybe his judgement isn't the best when he decides to make two boxes of mac and cheese instead of one, because just one isn't filling enough, especially at $1 a box.

It possibly gets out of hand as time goes on, and he looks at himself in the mirror - pulls his shirt up, runs a hand across his sides, his stomach, his chest - trying to fight off a grimace at just how big he's become.

He's not fat, he swears. He can get out of bed and can stand up straight, leering down to see his feet just fine. He can hide the slight double chin he's acquired if he's careful about the way he moves his head and it isn't there all the time, anyway, just when he looks down at himself or at other people.

He tries really hard not to notice.

***

He tries to get in shape a few times.

He buys new running shoes and thinks about buying a monthly pass to the 24 hour gym that's down the block.

Gym shorts, sweat pants, and black shirts have become is normal attire, but he never really goes anywhere or does anything to use them for their intended use.

The treadmill that's sitting in his mom's spare bedroom had been a two-day adventure. He sometimes thinks about going over and using it, but the anxiety of his mom looking at him with hope and the swell of pride in her voice as she would comment on him using it would be too much. He knows he wouldn't use it that often, not as often as she'd like, so he saves himself and her the disappointment.

He tells himself and his counselor at the VA that he's fine, he's getting there.

He tries eating one meal a day, keeps it up, feels okay about himself and maybe even a little happy, then binges the next week and forgets why he was trying.

***

He gets called handsome, one day. He pretty positive it's directed at him.

Bucky hasn't thought of himself as attractive in a long time. Not since he came back from overseas has he gotten a comment on his appearance, not since he fell off the wagon of keeping up his daily routine from daily training with his troop.

At night he works as a greeter and sometimes waiter at _Pierce's Place_. It's a little upscale and he wonders how he ever got the job, but he's not complaining. He can lay on the charm when necessary for the guests and sometimes gets leftovers at the end of the night. He avoids busting tables if he can help it and ignores the sound of ceramic dishes hitting each other the best he can.

One night, he's grabbing menus from the side of the podium and leads a party of three to their table, asking them if he could get them any drinks to start off with. They all reply with water - not wine, not beer, not even soda, and Bucky keeps himself from overthinking it. As he's turning away, he can hear a woman's whisper.

_Checking out the staff, Rogers?_

There's a sputter, a huff, even.

_I...well...So? Nothing...nothing wrong with finding a guy handsome._

A chuckle, then. Bucky feels his face heat up and he picks up his pace. He tells the waiter for their section what their drinks are and gets back to the podium.

He feels a little giddy, when he calms down. It's been awhile since he's had a compliment.

He doesn't feel like having seconds that night.

***

The thing about certain habits is that they're hard to break.

He still eats, still goes back for more, still snacks. One compliment doesn't turn it all around. His shirts start feeling a little tighter, so he does back off every other week, crossing his fingers that he'll never hit the triple digits.

Some nights he stops at _SHIELD_ , a local bar near his work. Eating is the last thing on his mind on those nights, instead being replaced with drinking and people watching. His counselor said it's good to get out, even if he doesn't talk to people, because he'll work his way up eventually.

He gets a beer - nothing light - and sits on one of the stools. He eats some of the pretzels they have on the counter, doesn't think about how much he's munching on, because he's not there to eat. He's here to socialize and make an attempt at keeping his paranoia down.

Someone sits next to him and Bucky knows they're probably just sitting there just to be sitting, so he forces himself to let his guard settle. But the person's throat clears and Bucky turns his head slightly, mindful of the press underneath his chin, and stops.

Bucky's seen the guy before - he thinks about the table of three he seated a couple weeks ago, vaguely remembering the guy's face. He's tall - short blond hair, broad shoulders, obviously fit, and Bucky swallows thickly as he subtly takes all of his appearance in this time.

"Uhm, you work at Pierce's Place, right?" The guy says, and damn it all, Bucky throat dries up. He's not whispering now, but he swears it's the same voice. The same guy that complimented him; calling him handsome.

He nods before replying. "Yeah, I - Yeah." His voice cracks. He really wishes he weren't here right now. He's intimidated, not knowing why the guy across from him is even bothering with him. He scanned the bar for possible exits when he got there and he tries to remember exactly where they were.

The guy smiles now, easy and big. "Good! Good, I thought you looked, uhm, familiar. I was just...wondering, maybe, if I could buy you a beer?" He laughs at the end, maybe nervously if Bucky had to pinpoint it.

He's baffled, maybe gawking at the guy, he's not sure. He feels his palm sweat and he absently wipes them on his rarely worn jeans - too snug, but going to a bar in sweat pants was just weird, so he attempted to look decent, even if he knows he'll never look decent in general.

He stops himself from asking why (that's rude, he thinks) and instead laughs, short and quick and tries to smile back. "You can," He mumbles. He maybe thinks he can do this. He used to flirt a lot, it's just a matter of not overthinking. Which, well.

The guy practically beams, and Bucky feels lightheaded. He can't do this.

***

His name is Steve Rogers and he's too good for Bucky.

They got along really well. Steve works for Stark Industries as a graphic designer. He volunteers at the local fire station on his off days and has one of those 24 hour gym memberships. He used to be in the army too and seems to have a better handle on life more than Bucky ever will.

Stories are exchanged over time; childhoods, army days when the time is right, what their jobs are, what their families are like. Bucky feels good when he talks to Steve. Not about himself, but in general it's fine, okay even. He's different than Steve, knows they both cope in completely opposite ways. Steve kept his grip on training; Bucky fell.

He invites Bucky out to dinner at least twice a week and never comments on Bucky's choices. He never looks at him funny for getting extra cheese sticks or opting in for dessert. It doesn't make Bucky feel any less disgusted with himself.

There are no anxiety attacks during their dates, and if Bucky sits at home alone and holds himself and a box of graham crackers afterwards, it's his business. He tries his best not to let his self control slip in front of Steve - perfect, well rounded Steve. He wants to ask what his secrets are to being normal again.

He thinks they're dating, but he's not entirely sure. They don't hold hands, don't do anything that normal friends wouldn't do. Bucky tells himself that they can't possibly be dating, because people like Steve don't go for people like Bucky. Steve's just friendly and likes hanging out.

Bucky's proven wrong 3 weeks in. They go out to dinner, they see a movie and Bucky orders popcorn and a slushie for them to share but drinks most of it, and Steve walks him home afterwards.

They stop at his apartment door and just before Bucky unlocks it, Steve pushes him back against the concrete wall of the building. He leans in and presses his lips against Bucky's, light and careful, hands on either side of the wall, bracketing Bucky in.

Bucky feels a little panicked and tells himself not to freak out. It's okay, this is okay. This is more than okay. He's not being ambushed, there's no explosions. Instead he feels tingles run up his spine, non-threatening, and is really glad there aren't any fireworks going off in his mind because he's more than sure that would spook him at this point.

People like Steve don't go for people like Bucky, but they're kissing regardless, and Bucky may be in over his head. He brings his hands up, gripping the collar of Steve's button down, trying to pull him in deeper. He feels a tongue run across the seam of his lips, and he gives into Steve, opening just slightly to feel the wet pressure.

Both of them are leaning back after a moment, both short of breath, both looking at each other with intent. And suddenly Bucky is self aware of himself. He wants to retreat. He wants to bury himself under more layers of clothes, because Steve was pressing against him. He probably felt all the curves of Bucky's body - he was right up against his stomach, his _chest_ , for Christ's sake.

He almost ducks out from under Steve's arms, still caging him, but Steve leans back in and presses their foreheads together, smiling.

"I've wanted to do that for awhile, you know." He's looking down at Bucky, grinning with a sated look in his eyes, like kissing Bucky made him that relaxed, that happy. Bucky wants to scream.

But he stays quiet, just letting Steve keep him there. He plays with the fabric of Steve's collar, mulling over his words.

"I..." He doesn't look up at him, keeps his gaze down. "I don't see how you could." His voice falters. He's confused, so confused. Steve leans back just a fraction.

"You don't see...?" Steve's brow furrows. Bucky risks a glance up, feels even worse because now Steve looks _hurt_. "Bucky, hey, look at me. I'm crazy about you, of course I'd want to kiss you."

He sounds so sure and Bucky shakes his head. "I'm...Steve, look at me. I don't...I'm not you. Of course I'd want to kiss _you_ , of course, but I'm...I'm fat. Jesus, Steve, you have eyes, I don't know why you're doing this."

A chuckle makes Bucky pull back this time, making them face to face, almost even. He leers at Steve, almost daring him to laugh again. "It's not funny, you punk. I'm serious. Unless you find this all a big joke, then yeah, ha ha, make fun of the fat guy." He pushes at Steve, tries to shove him away. It feels like a prank, Steve's toying with him for fun, that has to be it. His stomach turns, he might puke from the thought alone.

"Bucky, _Bucky-_ " Steve brings his hands closer to cup Bucky's face. Despite Steve's big hands, Bucky's cheeks feel even bigger and he feels his face flush in embarrassment. "I don't think you're fat, God no-"

" _Look_ at me, Steve!" Bucky tugs Steve's hands away. He's trying hard not to give in and break down, but the pressure behind his eyes won't go away. "I'm big. You can't deny that. I'm big, I'm too big-"

Steve stares down at him. His blue eyes feel too heavy against Bucky's own, but he doesn't dare turn away, even if he's about to cry. He feels Steve force his hands into Bucky's, like they're holding rather than gripping, and he brings them up to his face. Steve kisses his hands, and Bucky presses himself back against the wall, trying to put space between them regardless of the fact that it's impossible.

Steve gives a small smile, another laugh. Bucky doesn't call him out on it.

"I thought you were handsome the first time I saw you." He mumurs against Bucky's hands. "It was at your work, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of you when you seated me and my friends. Nat teased me all through dinner. I kept stealing glances at the front, hoping maybe you'd come by again. I'm not...I haven't dated in a long time, not since before my last tour. But I really wanted to ask you out. You seemed so...comforting. You made me feel relaxed."

He lets Bucky's hands drop, but places his on Bucky's hips. He presses his palms against them, ducking his head.

"I made a promise to myself that if by some chance, if I'd run into you again, that I'd ask you out. Granted, I didn't know if you were into men, but I'd still try. And you were at that bar that night, of all places!" He grinned wider. "I was so happy. I was also a wreck, and my friends practically shoved me over to you."

Bucky inhaled sharply, the sensation of Steve's palms running up his sides was too much. Too intimate. He didn't deserve it.

"...I wanted to ask why," Bucky's voice is hushed when he speaks. "Because it...that never happens. No one compliments me. After I came back from...I gained so much weight. I started- I started eating more. I didn't know how to handle myself." He's shaking, he can't stop talking. "Before, I was real good about sweeping people off their feet, you know?And- and now, I can barely see my own." He's sure he's crying now, feels Steve wiping away the dampness on his cheeks. "I don't know why you- You look like _you_ , and I look like _me_ -"

"And that's the reason I started liking you." Steve cut in, rubbing his thumb against Bucky's cheek. "I know how it is. Remember when I told you about me being skinny and small growing up? No one wanted a twig for a boyfriend, believe it or not. And I've learned not to go solely on appearances when I'm interested in people. Granted, you were really cute, and finding out more about you was the cherry on top. Sealed the deal. I like you, Bucky, I like you a lot, and I don't think I'd have you any other way."

It's too much and Bucky breaks. Tears are running down his face in full force, but he doesn't sob. He doesn't choke. Steve brings his arms around him and hugs him, squeezes him to his chest, and Bucky doesn't register his weight pressing up fully against Steve now. He can feel Steve saying something against the top of his head, promises to be there, be encouraging, that he'll help any way he can. He trails off, sure that Bucky knows he's serious by now, or maybe he knows that Bucky's numb. He kisses the top of Bucky's head, presses his cheek against his short, brown locks, and let's Bucky cry on the doorstep of his apartment.

***  
He doesn't think he'll ever understand why, but that's okay, maybe.

He's husky. He still loves eating, still cuts back every other week to make sure his clothes aren't too small, and still thinks about using his mom's treadmill.

Steve buys him cookies and brownies when he's having bad days, and goes with him to his counselor sometimes. There are plans they make, schedules that they compromise on. Bucky feels progressive for the first time in a long while.

They kiss a lot, and Steve praises him a lot, and Bucky's sure he loves Steve a lot. He constantly overthinks about himself; how Steve's holding him, where he's touching, how he looks next to Steve when they go out as official boyfriends and not just really close platonic friends.

And Steve is still too good for Bucky, he's sure.

They go over to Bucky's mom's for dinner at least once a week and share the leftovers. He goes to the gym with Steve on good days. He's been having a lot of those lately.

Bucky notices, but he's starting to accept that maybe he's okay and getting better. Baby steps, Steve tells him.

He isn't fat, not really.

He's husky and loves cinnamon rolls, but he loves Steve a whole lot more.


End file.
